


A Jester and a Muse

by Scottthespy



Category: Helluva Boss (Web Series)
Genre: Cruelty, Dubious Consent, F/M, Gore, M/M, Mentally unstable characters, Political Games, Profanity, Prostitution, Slavery, Violence, Vore, non standard emotions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:53:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29199429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scottthespy/pseuds/Scottthespy
Summary: Fizz is a perfect asset to Mammon, a flawless performer for both children and adults. He isn't programmed to feel physical pain or pleasure, or 'negative' emotions like anger, shame, fear, and sorrow, and as such has no reason to ever rebel. But a new player suddenly joins the political power games of the upper class, and she takes a strong interest in the robotic jester. Fizz enjoys his life, but this new demon brings a whole new level of fun.Rating to be safe, for possible future chapters.
Relationships: Robo Fizz/ Fizzarolli, Robo Fizz/ OC
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	1. A New Client

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new player appears on the stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A picture of the client, for those interested: https://www.deviantart.com/scottthespy/art/Muse-869284328?ga_submit_new=10%3A1612454773

The robotic jester gasped, grin stretching wider than ever as a patron’s fingers clenched around his throat.  
“Fuckin’ uppity toy…aughta break you right here and now…” the brute growled. 

The performer’s knees bent, his sharp fingers wrapped harmlessly around the arm holding him, his back bowed. It was a dreadfully submissive position, his chin forced up, his balance off, his whole body straining against the man’s one hand.  
He loved it. The deceptive vulnerability of the position, the futile rage in the would-be John’s face…

“You hear me you fucking piece of garbage? You exist to entertain _me_ , you’re _nothing_ on your own!” The man was growling. Fizz let out an electronic whine, neck sparking under the pressure. The guy was so angry. It was hilarious. The robotic entertainer laughed a maddened, gleeful laugh that glitched up in tone, making no attempt to defend himself.  
  
The bouncers of the club chose this moment to step in, snagging the aggressive patron and dragging him, protesting, towards the door. It wasn’t so much that they cared what the Johns did to the ‘performers’…just that they didn’t cause a scene.  
Fizz was dropped to the floor, and picked himself up with a dignity only someone with no shame could ever manage. Dusting himself off with a smirk, he winked and waved, going so far as to blow a cheeky kiss towards the protesting asshole as he was being thrown out. One of the servers approached, watching the eviction with a bored expression.  
“Any damage?” The imp asked the robot, who scoffed.

“As if a try hard li-ike that could so much as scu-uff me.” He said with a signature mad grin. It _was_ well known that Fizzarolli had ensured his robotic double was hard to hurt…likely because he didn’t want anything walking around looking like him to be a pushover.  
“Well, sort yourself out and get back on stage then. Your next set started two minutes ago.” The server said with little interest, turning away to get back to his own job.

Fizz did a little spin just to show off, and leapt lithely back onto the stage, picking up his performance in the middle of the song. The lack of concern for him was nothing new. He was a robot, after all. Sturdy enough for people to be confidant he’d be fine, and a literal piece of property with no money or power of his own, not someone worth showing emotion over. Besides, it’s not like the mechanical clown ever acted like he cared himself. There was a rumour flying around that he was either a masochist or just wasn’t built to feel pain. He seemed to thrive on negative attention, whether it be the jeers and thrown ice creams of imp children at the circus, or violent assaults from his night time clientele. 

How did he really feel about it? Truth be told, it had never bothered him. He didn’t expect anyone to be on his side, to offer a kind word, to so much as be gentle with him. Even those in similar positions, the non-robotic whores and dancers, looked down on him. And why not? He was, quite literally, a toy, programmed to please and _not_ programmed to have personal desires. He didn’t care how he was used, unlike his flesh and blood counterparts.  
Several dances later, he finished his act and relinquished the stage to the next performer, heading to the back room to check his clothing and synthetic skin in the mirrors. He didn’t exactly have to ‘do his makeup’, but it was good to make sure there were no tears or stains, and that everything was straight, before heading to the back rooms. If a client wanted him to look jacked up, they usually preferred to make him that way themselves.  
Satisfied that he looked put together and ready for the second half of the night, he pulled out his cell phone…it was cheap little flip phone, given to him solely so that his masters could relay instructions without wasting time. There was a message that consisted of a room number and the words “new client”. He smirked, and headed towards the rooms on the club’s upper levels. 

Just ‘new client’ could mean a lot of things, but it _definitely_ meant two things: he had to be on his best behaviour to ensure a repeat rental, and the client had specifically declined to give any clues as to how they wanted him to act. So they were probably expecting his usual dramatic flirty entrance. No special information to be gained from the room…it wasn’t a theme room, but not a cheap bargain room either. Seemed the client was going out of their way to give him nothing to work with. He grinned. Those were usually the _fun_ ones. 

~ 

Fizz wasted no time when he arrived at the room, immediately shoving the door open and throwing himself against the frame like it was a pole, striking a sexy little pose that left his back arched and his chin up, but his mad grin on full display. Submission, but no fear. A nice balance. 

“So-omeone in here order a little paradise for the nigh-ight?” He lilted in a slightly more sultry tone than he would have used with a non-client. The room was dark, with a table and a high backed chair directly in line of sight from the door. The chair was turned to face away from the door, and from it came the voice of his client, smooth, cultured, and lacking much in the way of descriptive emphasis. Oh yea, this one was _really_ pushing the ‘mysterious’ angle.

“Ah, Robotic Fizzarolli. Come in, close the door. Lock it while you’re at it.” The client said. Fizz did so without question, but quirked an eye. Lock the door? Was that supposed to be intimidation? Make him trap himself in? The client had to know he wasn’t one to try to run. He walked towards the chair, but before he could get around it, the voice spoke again.

“Stop.” It said, politely, but expecting to be obeyed. What was with this one? Fizz crossed his arms, smirking. 

“So, y’li-like playing games, huh? That’s fun, I _lo-o-ove_ games.” He said, unfazed by these oddities. The client chuckled, and the sound of creaking leather signalled them standing up. Fizz couldn’t see anything over the back of the chair, and it became clear why a moment later when they came into view.

The demon was short, around four foot seven inches at the top of their head, with an extra seven inches of curving golden horns reminiscent of those on an impala. Soft purple skin, slightly messy brown hair that reached just below the base of the skull, piercing white eyes with black sclera. The whole package was wrapped up in an immaculate and high quality outfit, something somewhere between a traditional orchestral composer and a 1930’s gangster, the jacket and pants in black with a blue vest, shirt, shoes, and silk scarf. The scarf was pinned with a golden harp-shaped pin, and gold glinted at the cuffs of the jacket and in a design on the shoes as well. Understated wealth, not a flashy show of gaudy jewellery, but enough to indicate that this was someone who had cash to throw around. When they shifted their weight, a slim tail that split at the end waved languidly behind them.

This demon had their arms behind their back, and a calm, if slightly smug, expression on their face. When they spoke next, Fizz saw perfectly white, perfectly _flat_ teeth, an oddity in this place.

“I’m glad to hear that, as I have more to play. Please, take a seat.” And they indicated the chair they had just vacated. Unfazed, Fizz flounced over, keeping his own confidence firmly on display, and dropped bonelessly into the seat, arranging his limbs dramatically.  
“Wha-atchya got planned for me, Mr-or-Mrs big shot?” He asked, striking another submissive-yet-confidant pose.

“Mz.” The demon responded, walking back around to stand in front of Fizz, crossing her arms and looking him up and down with a small smirk. “Mm…breathtaking really…I can’t believe I missed your existence for so long.” She said, almost to herself. Fizz preened under the praise like he expected it.

“If you’re jus-ust now findin’ out about me, then that’s y-your loss for sure, sugar. I’m the bes-est lay in two outta se-seven circles!” He boasted. Something in the client’s eyes flashed, amused.

“Ohh, but that’s not really what you are, are you? A ‘lay’, a ‘whore’, a ’hooker’, ‘prostitute’, ‘call girl’, ‘escort’ or even ‘slutty toy clown’.” She stepped closer, standing so that Fizz could feel the heat coming off her body against his knees. “ _You_ , ah, _you_ …” her grin stretched wider. “Are an _entertainer_.” 

Fizz’s eyes widened, and his words caught in his voice box. An entertainer…lofty praise for a two bit robotic rip off built to take the menial and demeaning tasks his creator didn’t want to bother with. He found himself caught off guard for the first time in a long time. Gathering himself quickly, he leaned forward in the chair, bringing their faces closer together and matching her grin. 

“Pretty words, but you’re still renting me like a car.” He retorted, and the demon chuckled again. She bent forward, hands on the arms of the chair, her nose a hair’s breadth away from his.

“Every step you take, your feet land on a stage. Every line you say is in furtherance of the show. Every person you interact with is _the audience_. Throwing yourself one hundred percent into a never ending performance, constantly on guard, constantly _analysing_ , looking for the perfect combination of action and words to get the desired results. You are a puppet for their amusement, _they_ are puppets on your string. Existing outside of the spotlight to justify _your_ existence _within_ it. The crowd, the clients…they may see you as a toy, but you’ve got them eating out of the palm of your hand.” Her voice was filled with fervour, quiet and controlled, but passionate. Fizz felt himself drawn in, and realized with a jolt…

“You too?” He asked, grin straining against even his flexibility. The demon stood straight again.

“Careful. It’s been a while since I was considered to be anyone else’s property. You shouldn’t trust me easily. However…” She stepped back, half turning her body away and offering a hand that Fizz took, enchanted by this performance done specifically for someone she knew could see through it. “I would like the opportunity to _earn_ that trust. I see many parallels in our stories. I can only imagine the show two such as us could put on _together_.” That calm intensity thrilled through Fizz as she pulled him out of the chair and towards the bed. Before he could say anything, though, she was continuing in a more conversational tone.  
“Of course, not tonight. We still have rolls we need to at least pretend to play, to appease everyone outside this room. You the unflinching escort and I your hapless client. I did pay for the ‘anything goes’ option, your maker will be suspicious of something if you return in pristine condition.” She said with a knowing smirk. The robot returned a slightly more vicious one.

“ ’Course. So what’r we do-oing? You’re not exactly big enough to slam me around…” He trailed off, and the girl laughed while sitting on the bed, taking a pose very similar to the one Fizz himself had taken in the chair. 

“You’re programmed to _give_ as well as receive, or so the posters say. It’s not uncommon for beings of power to desire the occasional handing over of the reigns, to wish to be commanded instead of commanding. Of course, this sort of thing needs to be handled discreetly, can’t let word get out of some higher up having _submissive_ fantasies. Thus the extra price tag…hush money.” She explained flippantly. Fizz crossed his arms, tilting his head, grin lopsided.

“So-omething tells me that’s an excuse. A la-lame one.” He said. The client chuckled.

“Of course. But I also want to send a certain _message_ to your masters. Come here.” She beckoned, and he did as bid, sliding onto the bed on his knees, straddling her legs. She took hold of his hands, inspecting them.

“Mm…good and sharp. The teeth too, I expect. Mammon wouldn’t bankroll something that couldn’t defend itself against actions that would threaten its function. Too expensive to keep building replacements.” She said. Fizz quirked an eyeridge again.

“…y-y’gonna dismantle me all slow and ca-careful like, just t’prove you ca-an?” He asked. The thought was actually kind of exhilarating…taking him apart _carefully_ wouldn’t threaten his existence, and it would be funny to see Fizzarolli’s pissed off expression when he had to rebuild the robot in time for his day shift at the park. Just seeing what this enigmatic little demon had in store would be worth the cooperation. But…

“No, not quite. I _do_ intend to discretely flaunt my power, but not with smoke and mirrors. This will be a demonstration of abilities I actually have.” She released his hands and placed hers on either side of his face, drawing him in for what he thought would be a kiss. Instead, she placed her forehead against his for a moment, smiling almost beatifically before pulling away. 

“Now, I don’t think I’ll explain the message to you. Let’s see if you can figure it out yourself.” She said with a glitter of dark amusement in her eyes. Leaning in close, she explained what she wanted him to do.


	2. Drifting Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fizz is lost in thought after a decidedly unusual evening.

It had definitely been an unusual night. Fizz had been shocked by what the demon requested….perhaps even, ever so slightly, hesitant to comply. That was a first…never before had he been uncertain about an order. He had been beaten, burned, insulted. He had been commanded to act as though he was terrified, to try (and fail) to escape. He had even been ordered to inflict pain upon others before. 

But this was a whole new level of fucked. People were dashing out of his way as he walked back to Loo Loo Land in the early hours of the morning, taking one look at him and making themselves scarce. He could hardly blame them. When a known mechanical menace comes back from a night of being used as a toy for rich assholes absolutely drenched in blood, it suggests something has gone terribly wrong. He still wore his typical smirk, and walked tall and proud, but for the first time in decades he was questioning at what point exactly things had spun off the rails. He was usually perfectly in control, expecting and playing into every action, so practiced at this business that he could intuit what his customers wanted and act on their desires without needing to be directed. Even before he’d gained enough data to extrapolate effectively, and things had slipped out of his understanding, he’d never really cared. But this was so outside the norm that he found himself mulling it over as he entered the park gates.

The girl’s request had been simple to put into words. Damage her. Claws and teeth, tear her to shreds, take chunks of flesh away, take his time doing it, but leave her limbs attached and her vocal cords unharmed. Torture of this sort was sometimes done by mob bosses, or particularly rich assholes who could afford to inflict their sick whims on lower class peons who no one cared enough to stand up for. But for a client to ask for this to be done to _them_? Unheard of, unthinkable. And yet, with each step he took, Fizz could feel the fabric of his outfit sticking and pulling against his metal, soaked in the drying ichor. She bled black; this outfit was destroyed. Hell, this _skin_ might be a lost cause, so smeared with gore he was.

And through it all, she hadn’t flinched. In fact, a few times he had caught her sighing, particularly when his teeth had sank carefully into her throat, enough to surely have been painful, frightening. She had acted like he’d just kicked his vibrations on, a pleasant sound of enjoyment whispering out between her lips. She had remained relaxed the whole time, going so far as to stroke _his_ face comfortingly when he had shuddered upon tearing off one particularly large chunk. It wasn’t completely outside of his programming…he could fight and kill. But the eerie calm with which she endured it all was…  
Well, creepy. He’d never been creeped out before. It was an interesting emotion. One the imps of the park were much more familiar with, especially in regards to the robotic jester. Today, however, the park workers were not ‘creeped out’. They were _horrified_. Someone ran ahead to the main office, warning the bossman about the state RoboFizz was in. By the time the performer got to his tent, Mammon was there, a carefully blank look on his face.

“Explain.” He said with no emotion. He didn’t need to raise his voice for it to be threatening. His power alone was enough. Fizz grinned, spreading his hands out in a gesture of innocence, and told the truth.

“The client asked for it, Bo-oss-master!” He said, shoulders shrugged in a ‘what was I supposed to do?’ sort of way. There was a beat, and Mammon’s hand was suddenly closed around the smaller jester’s neck. There was a reason no one else’s throttling could faze Fizz…he was too used to the utter intimidation of the prince of Greed’s fist on his throat. The performer didn’t so much as lift a hand in response. Defending yourself against Mammon was a good way to get hurt _much_ worse.

The powerful demon looked his robotic slave over for signs of having snapped. Other than the blood soaked _everything_ , there was nothing amiss. He was acting normally, no obvious damage or signs of tampering. He seemed fine. The powerful demon stroked his thumb against Fizz’s throat, then let go. It was an unspoken command to start talking. Fizz hurriedly obliged.

“Okay, so I got the text saying ‘new client’, ri-i-ight? And I go up to the room right away, and she’s in there, playing all these word games, being all co-coy. She seemed hap-appy enough with my normal attitude, so I just rolled with that.” He said, gesturing for emphasis as he spoke.“Then she gets this look on her face, and she pulls me ov-over to the bed, and I’m kinda-inda confused at this point, because she hasn’t even _mentioned_ what she wants-ants for the se-e-ex. Then she leans in all close…I thou-ou-ought she was gonna kiss me, and I’m thinking oh, she’s one’a _those_ types, the mush-ushy kind who pays to keep it all _quiet_. But then she _doesn’t_ kiss me.” He stopped, wondering how exactly Mammon was going to take this next part. He continued before needing to be prompted. Mammon would interrupt if he had anything to say.  
“S-so-o, she pulls her face right up beside min-ine, and she tells me she wants me…to _eat_ her.” He said. Mammon raised an eyebrow, so high it was visible even behind his elaborate mask. That probably wasn’t good.

“She asked you to eat her…and you interpreted that _literally_.” The prince asked mildly. Oh, that _definitely_ wasn’t good.

“Nonononono! No Boss-ma-aster! She was _very_ specific!” And here he switched his stance, standing very straight, one arm behind his back, chest puffed out, other hand up with one finger extended skyward as though explaining something to a classroom of children. “ _Use those teeth, those claws of yours. Tear me to shreds. Soak this bed in my blood_.” He ended the quote, spreading his arms out again. “She was re-real clear! She wanted to _bleed_ , Bo-oss!” He offered up with as much sincerity as he could muster. It was true, of course, but being so used to putting on an act full of half truths and whole lies, Fizz actually found honesty a bit of a hard sell. Luckily, Mammon bought it.

“Mm. Well then, I suppose it’s a good thing she paid up front.” He sighed. “I expect you didn’t go so far as to eat her _heart_ , so if…this…” He gestured to Fizz’s general state of gore. “…is what she wanted, then we can hope to hear from her again in a few weeks, when she’s recovered from-” The powerful jester cut off as his phone began to ring. He frowned, and answered.  
“Mammon speaking-what? Are you certain it’s the same…and she meant _this_ Friday?...alright, book it.” He snapped the phone shut and put it back in his pocket, giving Fizz a strangely intense, calculating look. The robot lifted his hands, grinning nervously. What had he done now?  
“…it seems your client was pleased with your services. She’s paid for a ‘date’ encounter this Friday.” He said. That made Fizz jolt. That was three days from now. Was she gonna go out and about with chunks missing? Or…his eyes lit up as he realized the message she had intended to send. Not to give the game away, he masked his sudden excitement as being about the job. 

“Wow-ow! I must have done pretty goo-ood then! I wasn’t sure, since it’s so different from what-at I usually do!” He let out one of his glitching mechanical cackles, and Mammon seemed satisfied.

“Prepare for your day show.” He said, leaving the tent. Fizz obediently headed for the shower, peeling off his clothing and throwing it directly in the trash. No saving _that_ mess. 

In the shower, he contemplated what he now knew. The girl had had him absolutely _savage_ her, it should have taken weeks for even a strong demon to fully recover from that. Mammon could recover from damage like that in a night or two. So with this ‘order another encounter within three days’ thing…was she trying to send the message that she was on par with _Mammon_ in terms of power? That was a bold statement! 

And a _date_ encounter! That package was rarely ordered. Some of the more fancy, well-off-but- _not_ -royalty types would occasionally want to show they had money to throw around, and that they were just a _little_ chaotic, a loose cannon to be watched. Those types would order the ‘date’ package and take him out as their ‘plus one’ to events and parties, flaunting that they could afford “The robotic Fizzarollli” for something so mundane. 

In this case, it must have been the public aspect that she wanted…showing off that she _was_ healed, or mostly healed. She _did_ wear an outfit that covered most of her in black. She could probably hide a lot of blood with that get up, so maybe she would just be faking it? She’d been able to keep a relaxed demeanour even while it was happening, surely she could act normal during a dinner even if she was still in shambles?

“ _This will be a demonstration of abilities I actually have_.”

Her words echoed through his mind. Could she really be…?   
Heh. Well. She’d also warned that he shouldn’t trust her too quickly. She was obviously a talented performer, she had _him_ buying in, despite _admitting_ she was acting. That was some kinda skill. He wondered what it would be like to be an entertainer who performed for other entertainers…the amount you’d have to up your game to get through to people who knew the tricks you were using, people who could see through the stage magic and tell you were, in fact, playing a role. Was it just that you had to act _harder_? No, that wasn’t it…she had let him see her mask…see it, but not see _under_ it. It was a matter of carefully balancing a show interesting enough to catch attention, and letting the right people in on the right info to make them feel included. Fizz grinned as the water rinsed his metal clean. That kind of performance, needing to be so, so _perfectly_ on point…how thrilling would it be to put on a show like that? To be appreciated by your fellow entertainers…

An alarm elsewhere in the tent went off, reminding Fizz that he _did_ have a show to get to, though not the incredible one he was daydreaming about. Still, an appreciative crowd was an appreciative crowd, and the implings were nothing if not vocal about liking his act. He didn’t mind the kiddie show, honestly. He could see why Fizzarolli felt he’d outgrown it, but Fizz just wanted smiles. The kids gave those in spades, so the circus was fulfilling to the robot performer. Stepping out of the shower, he spun himself dry, checked in the mirror to make sure no blood was left visible on his face, and hurriedly got dressed. He had an audience to entertain.


	3. Dinner...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friday arrives, and the date begins.

Friday seemed to take forever to arrive, and when it did, Fizz was positively giddy with anticipation. He dug to the back of his closet to find the fanciest thing he had to wear, a dramatic black and white jester costume studded with rhinestones. He made sure every part of him looked as stunning as it could. The small demon was a high profile client, after all, if Mammon caught Fizz dressing in any old outfit the prince would probably scrap him right then. When he stepped out of his tent, he found Fizzarolli himself there to walk him to the front gate. 

“Boss-man! To what do I o-owe the pleasure?” Fizz asked with genuine enthusiasm. He didn’t get to see his namesake very much these days, so busy was the popular jester demon with his various appearances. Fizzarolli scowled, crossing his arms.

“Need to get a look at the client, ascertain whether or not…what sort of shape she’s in.” He changed what he had been going to say, shooting a look at the robot. “What are you wearing?” He added bitterly. Fizz didn’t let his grin waver at all, tilting his head as though he hadn’t understood the ‘political game’ talk. 

“My best outfit! She-she’s a fancy, high class kinda gal, prob’ly gonna tak-ake me someplace nice. I don’t wanna be und-underdressed! And since we’re out in public she’s prob-rob’ly not gonna ask me to bite her again, so it sh-sh-shouldn’t get messed up this time!” He ‘assured’, as if he had assumed the potential to ruin the outfit was Fizzarolli’s concern. The demon rolled his eyes, and led the way grumpily towards the park gate. As they approached, they’d see the client standing there, dressed just as before, a calm smirk on her face, no visible signs of lingering damage. Fizzarolli stiffened up slightly, but put on an unpleasant grin as they exited the park and stopped in front of the client. 

“So, you’re our eager new client, huh? S’good to meet you face to face.” Fizzarolli said. The girl gave an unexpectedly low bow.

“Muse.” She said, introducing herself. “The demon of inspire.” That made Fizz’s eyes light up, but ‘Muse’ continued. “And you must be _Demonic_ Fizzarolli, the true original, accept only one substitute.” She said, eyes on the natural demon. “It’s a delight to meet such a talked about performer.” She was the very picture of polite conversation, but Fizz was intrigued. He himself was an entertainer, but the man he was copied from was a mere performer? Interesting. Fizzarolli managed a cheerful enough smile…for a moment, before it became a sneer again.

“Don’t accept him all the time. He’s really only good enough for simple minded, _easily entertained_ folk.” He mocked. Fizz looked at his creator, a little surprised. That was a pretty blatant insult right there. Muse, however, took it in stride.

“Well I _am_ still young. Perhaps with age will come wisdom.” She said, standing with a flourish and offering her arm to Fizz. “Shall we?” She asked with a roguish grin. Fizz took the arm with glee, and waved back at the now scowling Fizzarolli as the client swiftly led him away.

“I’ll have him back at midnight.” She called flippantly as they disappeared around the corner.  
Fizz let out a cackle as soon as they were out of sight.

“Yer a ri-riot! That’s gonna leave him gue-e-essing!” the robot said, shoudlers shaking. Muse accepted the compliment graciously.

“Well if he’s going to lay opportunities out on a silver platter for me, it would just be impolite to pass them up.” She said. Fizz shook his head, grinning ear to ear.

“Dangerous. Re-eal dangerous.” He pointed out. The girl gave a very practiced shrug, one that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a stage.

“Omelettes and eggs, Fizz my dear.” She said, making the robot perk up. Metaphors could be fun to interpret.

“So am I one’a the e-e-eggs?” he asked, tilting his head with a sly twist to his smile.

Muse stopped walking, turning to regard the robot for a few moments, appearing to actually consider that question. Fizz realized that this, too, could have been part of the act, and felt that thrill go through him again. This was another person who, like him, was in character at all times, making it impossible to tell when they were being genuine and when they were just leading you through their script. He wanted in, he wanted to see behind the curtain, but at the same time the mystery was a big part of the allure. Was this what it was like for other people when they watched him? Or did they not bother to think that deeply about a robot copy?

After a long moment, the demon smiled almost tenderly.  
“I hope not. I’m rather hoping you may be the _pan_.” She said, softly, before starting to walk again, brightening back up. “You are a piece in my game…what kind of piece remains to be seen, and there are many thrilling possibilities. Tonight I hope to feed some choice pieces of information to you, and see what becomes of it.” She shot him a sidelong glance, and Fizz felt his excitement grow.

“So-o, I’m the messenger you’re feeding fa-alse information to my masters through?” He asked. “Kinda rui-uins it if you te-e-ell me it’s part of the game, don’t i-on’t it?”

“ _Does_ it?” She asked, a knowing smirk on her face. Fizz was enthusiastically confused. Just what _was_ this game she was playing? It had so many moving parts! Or maybe none, maybe she was just messing with him, and there was no end goal at all. Not being able to tell if those brief moments of her mask slipping were only revealing another layer of the act made it impossible to know just how deep, or shallow, this went. Either way, he was eager to find out. 

A short walk later, Muse led them to the doors of a very high class club. This place always had live entertainment…Fizzarolli had even performed here once or twice, though they’d refused to let Fizz on their stage. Too unpredictable, they had said. They were probably right. The bouncer eyed the robot suspiciously, and Fizz responded with an ‘innocent’ grin. Muse gave a polite cough, and the man’s attention shifted to her.

“…any damage this…thing…does will be added to your bill.” He said, sneering disdainfully. Muse smirked. 

“Naturally.” She responded. The bouncer sniffed, and let her in. Fizz waved to the man on their way by. 

He looked around, wide eyed and full of excitement, at the inside of the club. Everything was in slate grey, chocolate bown, and oxblood, with silver and gold accents. Small round tables, for two to five people, dotted the large floor in front of a raised stage slightly smaller than Fizz’s own at the circus. A microphone stand stood on the otherwise empty stage, the lights that lined the edge turned low. They’d come in before the show, apparently. 

Muse led Fizz to a table that had a reservation card set upon it, and an imp arrived almost instantly to take her order, not so much as looking at Fizz. Professional. The robot placed his hands on the table, interested to see what his endlessly fascinating client would order. Even something like a meal could be part of the game of learning about someone. What would her choice say about her?

“A Roy Rogers.” Was all she said. The imp bowed and left. 

“Just a dri-ink, nothing to eat?” Fizz asked, propping his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his laced fingers. 

“Nothing here has quite the taste I’m looking for.” She responded, leaning back in her chair with a calm and pleasant expression. The jester contemplated her for a few moments. She was an entertainer, in character even now. This night was meant to give him information to take back to Mammon and Fizzarolli, who would no doubt be on him as soon as he got back to the park, asking about this mysterious and boastful demon that had appeared out of nowhere. So it was probably safe to assume that everything she showed him tonight would be part of the persona she wanted his masters to know, not necessarily the truth, though not necessarily false either. A good lie was always laced with enough truth to make it believable. So, what had she already given him to work with?

She was ‘young’, but skilled at political games. She didn’t respond to insults. She didn’t like the food at one of the swankiest places in the circle of greed. None of this led to any interesting conclusions, but they had plenty of time for that. Now, the question was, would she be dictating what she wanted him to know, or was he supposed to dig? Might as well find out.

“So, tonight’s about feedin’ me-e-e some info t’take back to my mas-asters. Is this supposed to come out na-naturally over the course of the e-e-evening, or is this twenty question-ions?” he asked, leaning towards her. She chuckled.

“Feel free to act, and ask, as you will. I do enjoy a challenge.” She said, gesturing graciously. Fizz chuckled at that. So she had specific things she wanted him to know, but he didn’t have to follow her script. 

“You must not know me very we-ell babes. When I’m allo-owed to run my mouth, everyone else’s plans go down-own the drain.” His smile was downright feral at this point, but it didn’t seem to faze her.

“Please. I am a master of improv. Your spontaneity and unpredictable nature are precisely _why_ I’m so taken with you.” She said, clasping her own hands on the table and leaning in.  
Fizz drew back, cocking his head to the side. She liked him _for_ being a pain in the ass? Most people just put up with that aspect of him, and then only when they had to. It was part of what made him so popular for rental. People couldn’t resist the chance to shut his cocky mouth. For the baser, lower class demons who usually paid for those sorts of things, it was satisfying to hear the robot beg for mercy, even when everyone knew it was just an act.

Muse chuckled, interrupting the jester’s thoughts.  
“Ah, that mild confusion. A bit outside of expectations, am I? Well then, why don’t we start with your first direct bit of information?” She mirrored Fizz’s earlier position, elbows on the table and fingers laced, just as the waiter was coming back with her drink, a dark and bubbly substance in a tall glass. “I don’t drink alcohol.”

Muse didn’t break eye contact with Fizz as the drink was set in front of her and the server walked off without a word. As soon as he was gone, the purple demon slid the drink across the table for Fizz to inspect. He couldn’t taste, but he could smell. There didn’t appear to be any booze in the drink. It _looked_ like a mix drink, but in reality it was just a fancy cherry cola. Fizz quirked an eye. A demon who didn’t _drink_?

“So what’s the rea-reason for tha-at? E-even if you didn’t like the taste, _everyo-one_ drinks here. Not drink-inking would…” He trailed off at the smirk she was wearing.  
“Make me look weak, invite mockery, start rumours?” She asked, grinning smugly. “Oh it does, particularly among the lower classes. More sophisticated demons, meanwhile, tend to realize something. It goes against the grain.” She said, her tone leading. Fizz passed the drink back saying,

“Most pe-eople avoid goin’ agai-ainst the grain here. Get’s you targ-argeted.” He said, causing her smile to brighten, seeming almost childishly excited for a moment.

“So someone who’s willing to downright _flaunt_ something so out of the ordinary…?” She pressed, waiting for him to finish the thought.

“…is say-aying they ain’t afra-aid to be targeted.” His expression became predatory. That would be one hell of a bluff, if that’s what it was. Given some of the other stuff she’d done, it might not have been. Again, impossible to tell with her 24/7 act in place.

And something like that would need a 24/7 act. She’d never be able to trust a single demon, lest they turn on her, reveal her secrets. Even those who seemed close to her, she would have to stay in character with. Fizz remembered her comment about ‘parallels’ between their lives. Did she know this was one of them? Or was this _her_ fishing for information? Fizz decided to push his luck.

“So is it a blu-uff? Are you jus-just a newly independent kid buil-uilding up a reputation to protect yourse-e-elf?” He asked, propping his cheek against one fist. Muse raised an eyebrow.

“Going after Mammon to build a reputation would be like taking on a shark to protect myself from barracudas.” She pointed out. 

“You see-eem crazy enough to go that route.” The robot responded, grinning sharply.

“Or powerful enough to fight the shark.” She said, returning his expression.

Fizz sat back, bemused and intrigued. He decided that this ‘we both know what’s going on here’ banter was kind of fun. No one _ever_ talked to him like this, on level, expecting him to keep up, wanting him to contribute. It was exciting to be handed small clues and try to work out what was true and what was part of the public persona. Which was tricky, since she’d created a bit of a logical trap. Going after a prince was suicide, so it was assumed that anyone who did could hold their own. Because of that, someone weak might be tempted to try and let the assumption itself be their protection, but someone strong might hope Mammon _thought_ they were weak, which would give them an advantage. 

Not that it was his place to try and interpret any of this. He was only here to pass it on to Fizzarolli and Mammon. _They_ were the ones who would have to figure out what to do about it. Fizz just had to get as much information as possible for them to work with.

“So which is-is it?” He asked. The girl raised an eyebrow, seeming amused.  
“How exactly do you want me to answer that? Once you reach the level of ‘he knows that I know that he knows’ that we have going on, there’s no logical stopping point. I answer, but did I tell the truth hoping you would think I was lying? Or tell a lie hoping you would expect a triple cross? Back and forth it goes, further complicated by the fact that you don’t even know which one, truth or lie, I want you to believe.” She shrugged. Fizz blinked. He’d known that, but her pointing it out was unusual. She seemed to prefer her games on a more meta level. Well, that was fine with him. He liked confusion and disorder.

“Mmm. So basic-asically, I can get fu-ucked.” The robot said with a sardonic sigh. It didn’t matter to him either way, but it was getting slightly frustrating to be so far out of the loop on what seemed like such an interesting play. Then again, that mystery _was_ what was keeping him interested. If she was doing this on purpose, it was damned impressive. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, precisely. Perhaps, if you keep me talking long enough, I’ll slip up in some way you can be certain of.” Muse said, steepling her fingers and looking up innocently, a smirk on her lips. Fizz wore a puzzled, if intrigued, expression.

“After say-aying something like that, I’m even more-ore convinced that any ‘sli-i-ip up’ you make is just part of the ac-act.” If she was calling her own games out, why couldn’t he? Dangerous though it could be; no matter her power, she certainly had enough money to rent him for a night just to trash his body, if he managed to make her mad.

“That’s fair. Very fair. And honestly, a big part of the fun. So long as you remain Mammon’s pawn, I want to keep you on your toes. But if I should ever manage to make you mine, I’ll have to work all the harder to get you to trust me.” She said, giving him a very covetous look. Fizz felt that look like a shock running through his wires. 

“How-ow exactly do you pla-a-an to do _that_?” He asked, not sure he wanted to delve into the rest of that heavily loaded sentiment.

“Well. I _may_ be persuaded to give you another direct piece of information.” She said, smile almost daring him. “If you ask nicely for it.” Okay, smile _definitely_ daring him. What else could he do? He leaned so far forward that his chest was touching the tabletop, and put on his best ‘good little robot’ face.

“Pretty plea-lease?” He asked with the eagerness of a kid in a candy store. Muse snorted- an unusually crass sound coming from such a well put together demon- which delighted the jester. The demon bowed her head.

“Very well. Now listen closely, because this is big.” Suddenly, her demeanour changed, face becoming serious as she shifted to sit straighter, hands now flat on the table. She looked directly into his eyes, and pronounced her next words carefully, with theatrical weight:

“I will never intentionally harm you.”


End file.
